As ashamed as I am to admit this, I have been watching this season of the Bachelor. What began as intrigue has quickly escalated to something else, entirely.
I started watching because I thought it was pretty funny they were bringing back the Bachelor who turned down both girls. A part of me wonders who and the hell he thinks he is and another part of me is like, good for him. The song says “if you like it than you shoulda put a ring on it.” Not, “if you are on national tv and you just like me ok than put a ring on it.”
After the first couple episodes, I began finding it hilarious. The girls are crying over a guy that they’ve probably only had one-on-one interaction for a total of 30 minutes. But now we are on episode four. We’ve had like 6 girls with one-on-one dates, so that means 14 hours of one-one-one time. More minutes, more hours, it totally ups the ante.
Now I’m watching the show because I want to continue seeing these girls make fools of themselves. DO THEY NOT REALIZE THIS SHOW IS NATIONALLY TELEVISED? We see how you are reacting. I had no idea girls cry so much, or have so many emotions and that is coming from someone that can cry over just about anything.
Dear Ashley H…. good luck having clients come get their cavity filled after seeing your behavior. Had I not known any better, I’d thought you were in high school.
Dear girls constantly crying to him (that includes Ashley H.)… I’m willing to be he gets annoyed. If you keep crying, he’s probably gonna kick your ass to the curb. I mean shit, I would.
Dear Michelle,… you are a crazy bitch. It’s a good thing for you that the Bachelor’s primary audience is women… if it were men, you’d have no chance in hell with anyone ever again. (Note to Brad, if you pick her, I will lose all faith in men. Check that, I will think you are dumb ass for eternity.)
And as for the writers/producers of the show… did you have the girls fill out a form that asked their biggest fear? Because I find it ironic that every one-on-one date has consisted of whichever girl is on that date’s biggest fear. Singing, deep water, heights? Good call. But now it’s getting predictable, please stop.
AS FOR TAKING THE GIRL WHOSE HUSBAND WAS A RACE CAR DRIVER AND DIED TO THE RACE TRACK FOR A DATE... RUDE.
For those of you who don’t watch this show, please ignore my rant.
Someday I hope to be on the Bachelor. And as “Prince Charming” drops to one knee to propose on the season finale, I will turn to the camera and yell, “HELL YEA!!! I WIN LINDA! YOU OWE ME $10.”
P.S. I plan on nominating a friend of mine to be the next Bachelor. In return, he promises to get every girl pregnant on the show… now think how awesome that “After the Final Rose” ceremony would be? How about them ratings?
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
DMAFASA: Do me a favor and stop abbreviating.
I watch a lot of TV. I strive to get my reading done before primetime hits. I have a very strict schedule. Sundays, Mondays, Tuesdays and Thursdays are very important days of the weeks. Luckily, most of my favorite TV shows don’t conflict… or else there would be hell to pay.
Lately, I have a new favorite: Castle. It is about a professional writer who begins shadowing his muse (a beautiful intimidating female detective) because he is besties with the mayor and gets permission to do so. It’s funny because they are so opposite of each other that as much as Detective Beckett gets annoyed with Castle, they actually grow to love each other… but of course never get together because what else would drive the audience to continue watching. JUST HOOK UP ALREADY.
Since being in law school, it is hard for me to take any show that is law related too seriously. I catch minor things that no ordinary individual would catch. For example, when people are taken down to the police station for questioning… that is actually an arrest, so most of the time the police in shows CANNOT do that because they don’t have probable cause. The individual must go either voluntarily or in handcuffs, there is no in between.
But to my point… I do not only find these shows as entertaining but I also find them hysterical, most often when they aren’t trying to be funny.
In Castle, the police detectives always abbreviate things. I suppose the writers think it makes the show sound more realistic; who knows maybe detective really do abbreviate things. But when it comes to abbreviations, I find them annoying. HBD is not a good substitution for Happy Birthday. If it isn’t a “big deal,” don’t tell me “NBD,” tell me “No Big Deal.” “BRB.” Wait where are you going?
The detectives abbreviate COD (cause of death) and several other things I can’t remember off the top of my head.
Abbreviations piss me off in general. But the things that really piss me off? Abbreviations that take longer to say than had you not abbreviated in the first place. NRA – I understand. It’s a lot easier to say NRA than “National Rifle Association.”
But GSW? Does anyone know what GSW stands for? You do if you watch Castle. GSW means gunshot wound. However, if you actually say G-S-W it takes longer than gunshot wound. Gunshot wound is only 3 syllables, GSW is 4.
Moral of the story… don’t’ abbreviate just to abbreviate. It’s annoying.
TTYL.
Lately, I have a new favorite: Castle. It is about a professional writer who begins shadowing his muse (a beautiful intimidating female detective) because he is besties with the mayor and gets permission to do so. It’s funny because they are so opposite of each other that as much as Detective Beckett gets annoyed with Castle, they actually grow to love each other… but of course never get together because what else would drive the audience to continue watching. JUST HOOK UP ALREADY.
Since being in law school, it is hard for me to take any show that is law related too seriously. I catch minor things that no ordinary individual would catch. For example, when people are taken down to the police station for questioning… that is actually an arrest, so most of the time the police in shows CANNOT do that because they don’t have probable cause. The individual must go either voluntarily or in handcuffs, there is no in between.
But to my point… I do not only find these shows as entertaining but I also find them hysterical, most often when they aren’t trying to be funny.
In Castle, the police detectives always abbreviate things. I suppose the writers think it makes the show sound more realistic; who knows maybe detective really do abbreviate things. But when it comes to abbreviations, I find them annoying. HBD is not a good substitution for Happy Birthday. If it isn’t a “big deal,” don’t tell me “NBD,” tell me “No Big Deal.” “BRB.” Wait where are you going?
The detectives abbreviate COD (cause of death) and several other things I can’t remember off the top of my head.
Abbreviations piss me off in general. But the things that really piss me off? Abbreviations that take longer to say than had you not abbreviated in the first place. NRA – I understand. It’s a lot easier to say NRA than “National Rifle Association.”
But GSW? Does anyone know what GSW stands for? You do if you watch Castle. GSW means gunshot wound. However, if you actually say G-S-W it takes longer than gunshot wound. Gunshot wound is only 3 syllables, GSW is 4.
Moral of the story… don’t’ abbreviate just to abbreviate. It’s annoying.
TTYL.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
If At First You Don't Succeed...
Everyone knows the saying "If at first you don't succeed, then try try again." It is the cliche' individuals so often hear in times of failure. As children everyone heard this. In fact the saying's popularity has been linked back to getting American schoolchildren to do their homework. It was a montra. The lesson behind it... Don't give up... (And do your damn homework.)
A favorite song of mine has a line that is repeated throughout the entire song, "Whether you fall means nothing at all, it's whether you get up." It has the same meaning. Instilling in all of us the value of hard work and determination.
So you all probably understand my confusion reconciling that famous quote with another famous quote. This quote however, was from none other than genius Albert Einstein (the quote has also been attributed to Ben Franklin... but lets be honest, Albert Einstein makes my point so much better.) It goes a little something like this:
"Insanity is defined as doing the same thing over and over expecting a different result."
I have a jar of pickles in my refrigerator. It has been in my refrigerator for about 5 months now. Every week or so, I attempt to open the jar of pickles. And about every week or so, I fail. I have tried using rubber oven mits. I have tried banging it on the table. I have tried everything short of taking a freakin' hammer to the glass. I want those damn pickles. They are spicy and sweet and garlic. YUM.
My question is: After how long will my attempts go from determination to insanity? I've not given up. But at the same time, nothing ever changes. No matter how many times I attempt to open those pickles, it probably just isn't going to happen. Am I hardworking or just a little special? I'll leave that up to you.
In the meantime, someone needs to get in contact with Albert and Ben and whoever came up with that other quote and have them reconcile their differences. I think a debate is in order.
A favorite song of mine has a line that is repeated throughout the entire song, "Whether you fall means nothing at all, it's whether you get up." It has the same meaning. Instilling in all of us the value of hard work and determination.
So you all probably understand my confusion reconciling that famous quote with another famous quote. This quote however, was from none other than genius Albert Einstein (the quote has also been attributed to Ben Franklin... but lets be honest, Albert Einstein makes my point so much better.) It goes a little something like this:
"Insanity is defined as doing the same thing over and over expecting a different result."
I have a jar of pickles in my refrigerator. It has been in my refrigerator for about 5 months now. Every week or so, I attempt to open the jar of pickles. And about every week or so, I fail. I have tried using rubber oven mits. I have tried banging it on the table. I have tried everything short of taking a freakin' hammer to the glass. I want those damn pickles. They are spicy and sweet and garlic. YUM.
My question is: After how long will my attempts go from determination to insanity? I've not given up. But at the same time, nothing ever changes. No matter how many times I attempt to open those pickles, it probably just isn't going to happen. Am I hardworking or just a little special? I'll leave that up to you.
In the meantime, someone needs to get in contact with Albert and Ben and whoever came up with that other quote and have them reconcile their differences. I think a debate is in order.
Friday, January 21, 2011
If Only Norman Had a Lounge Act Like Marty and Elaine.
Last night the law school had a get together at McNellie's as sort of a welcome back to school party. About 3 hours in to this party, everyone was feeling good, everyone had a few drinks down, and then something horrible happened. The unspeakable when it comes to law students. Someone announced that grades were up. AWESOME. The night took a quick turn for the worst.
Some friends, including myself, chose to check their grades on their phones... God love technology. Others, however, chose to exercise patience. Something I do not pretend to have, although I'm told its a virtue.
My grades weren't horrible... they weren't the best, but I could be less fortunate. My grades have consistently gotten worse in the three semesters I've been in law school. I don't know if I'm losing brain cells or if everyone else is just getting smarter... or perhaps the amount of preparation I put into exams has grown which gives me less motivation to actually study the materials I've prepared.
Regardless, after I checked my grades I did what only one could do in a situation like that.... SHOTS FOR EVERYONE! Ok not everyone, but several of my friends.
As I was sitting their "drowning" my sorrows (which keep in mind I had a 9:30am class so my drowning did not consist of much) I wanted one thing in my life.... MARTY AND ELAINE.
Marty and Elaine... about a 65+ year old couple of lounge singers in Los Angeles. They played at a bar called The Dresden and they were HIGHlarious. Elaine played the piano, Marty played the drums and then they had a bass player who looked like he was still coked out from the 80s. Marty and Elaine each took turns sharing the miche.
The most fascinating aspect of their act was Elaine. She too looked coked out. She had this sort of Ray Charles/staring off blindly with a goofy ass smile on her face while playing the piano thing going on. And every so often she would stand up and play her keyboard while scatting.
Yes, scatting. She was a scatter. She would slam her fingers down on her keyboard, which was tuned like an organ, and begin squealing off high pitch skats. Most the time you could not make out what exactly she was singing, but you know I recorded it. BECAUSE IT WAS FABULOUS.
She scatted. She sang. She played... oh and she also used scotch tape to tape her bang curl in place. You could see the shiniest of it when you looked at her. It was great.
Bottom Line: Whenever you are having a bad day... think of Elaine and Marty and the happiness they bring to the lives of so many.
Below are pictures of Elaine jammin' out... and also a video clip which was from when Elaine whipped out her flute.
Some friends, including myself, chose to check their grades on their phones... God love technology. Others, however, chose to exercise patience. Something I do not pretend to have, although I'm told its a virtue.
My grades weren't horrible... they weren't the best, but I could be less fortunate. My grades have consistently gotten worse in the three semesters I've been in law school. I don't know if I'm losing brain cells or if everyone else is just getting smarter... or perhaps the amount of preparation I put into exams has grown which gives me less motivation to actually study the materials I've prepared.
Regardless, after I checked my grades I did what only one could do in a situation like that.... SHOTS FOR EVERYONE! Ok not everyone, but several of my friends.
As I was sitting their "drowning" my sorrows (which keep in mind I had a 9:30am class so my drowning did not consist of much) I wanted one thing in my life.... MARTY AND ELAINE.
Marty and Elaine... about a 65+ year old couple of lounge singers in Los Angeles. They played at a bar called The Dresden and they were HIGHlarious. Elaine played the piano, Marty played the drums and then they had a bass player who looked like he was still coked out from the 80s. Marty and Elaine each took turns sharing the miche.
The most fascinating aspect of their act was Elaine. She too looked coked out. She had this sort of Ray Charles/staring off blindly with a goofy ass smile on her face while playing the piano thing going on. And every so often she would stand up and play her keyboard while scatting.
Yes, scatting. She was a scatter. She would slam her fingers down on her keyboard, which was tuned like an organ, and begin squealing off high pitch skats. Most the time you could not make out what exactly she was singing, but you know I recorded it. BECAUSE IT WAS FABULOUS.
She scatted. She sang. She played... oh and she also used scotch tape to tape her bang curl in place. You could see the shiniest of it when you looked at her. It was great.
Bottom Line: Whenever you are having a bad day... think of Elaine and Marty and the happiness they bring to the lives of so many.
Below are pictures of Elaine jammin' out... and also a video clip which was from when Elaine whipped out her flute.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
My Dog Thinks I Drink Too Much
One time my mother thought my dog had shit on the floor of the new house. When my mother confronted her, she cowardly crawled away and then refused to give my mom a kiss. For my mother's dogs this is incriminating evidence. If Poquito or Penny hides from my mother after an "accident" has been found, it means they are guilty. For Tegan, however, this is not always the case.
You see, Tegan thinks I drink too much. Whenever she smells alcohol on me, she stages her version of an intervention. When my mom began explaining to me how it had to be Tegan because she was acting ashamed, I quickly clarified my dog's actions.
"Mom, try to kiss her."
"Maddie, I'm not going to try to kiss your dog."
"No... seriously. I want to prove something to you. Try to kiss her."
Mom leaned in to give Tegan a kiss and she turned her head away from my mothers giving her the cold cheek.
"Now its my turn... Tegan, give momma a kiss."
Again, cold cheek.
"Melissa, try to kiss Tegan."
"No."
"No really, kiss her, I'm trying to prove she's innocent."
Melissa leaned in to kiss Tegan and Tegan kissed her. Mother and I had gone through two bottles of wine. Tegan could smell the alcohol on me, and when she smells alcohol on me, she keeps her distance. Not because I'm an abusive drunk... the exact opposite actually. I'm extremely affectionate. So affectionate, in fact, that I will come home and chase her around the house so I can hold her. Sometimes she lets me pick her up, and sometimes the act of bending over off-sets my balance and I stumbled onto the floor, her in my arms. She doesn't not care for that.
Today on my way to drop my car off, I found thought Tegan was acting strangely. She was keeping her distance and very cautiously keeping the corner of her eye on me at all times. And she was shaking. I called my sister curious if she was slammed to the floor board when staying with her, but Melissa denied it.
When I got off the phone, it hit me. She thinks I've been drinking. I was chewing a watermelon gum that smelled somewhat like Four Loko... she thought I was drunk.... and driving.
After having a conversation, I told her Mama wasn't drunk and I spit my gum out to prove it to her... she didn't believe me until the smell finally faded from my mouth.
Trust.
You see, Tegan thinks I drink too much. Whenever she smells alcohol on me, she stages her version of an intervention. When my mom began explaining to me how it had to be Tegan because she was acting ashamed, I quickly clarified my dog's actions.
"Mom, try to kiss her."
"Maddie, I'm not going to try to kiss your dog."
"No... seriously. I want to prove something to you. Try to kiss her."
Mom leaned in to give Tegan a kiss and she turned her head away from my mothers giving her the cold cheek.
"Now its my turn... Tegan, give momma a kiss."
Again, cold cheek.
"Melissa, try to kiss Tegan."
"No."
"No really, kiss her, I'm trying to prove she's innocent."
Melissa leaned in to kiss Tegan and Tegan kissed her. Mother and I had gone through two bottles of wine. Tegan could smell the alcohol on me, and when she smells alcohol on me, she keeps her distance. Not because I'm an abusive drunk... the exact opposite actually. I'm extremely affectionate. So affectionate, in fact, that I will come home and chase her around the house so I can hold her. Sometimes she lets me pick her up, and sometimes the act of bending over off-sets my balance and I stumbled onto the floor, her in my arms. She doesn't not care for that.
Today on my way to drop my car off, I found thought Tegan was acting strangely. She was keeping her distance and very cautiously keeping the corner of her eye on me at all times. And she was shaking. I called my sister curious if she was slammed to the floor board when staying with her, but Melissa denied it.
When I got off the phone, it hit me. She thinks I've been drinking. I was chewing a watermelon gum that smelled somewhat like Four Loko... she thought I was drunk.... and driving.
After having a conversation, I told her Mama wasn't drunk and I spit my gum out to prove it to her... she didn't believe me until the smell finally faded from my mouth.
Trust.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Scratches on the Door Knob
Man, I Loved College.
In the past I have shared with you all that my friends and I could have very easily been the center of a reality TV show. I’m pretty sure two of them still could. In effort to show you all just how much truth there is to this statement, I will share with you the following story.
Once upon a time in the magical city of Stillwater, there lived four very mischievous girls. They liked to go out on the weekends, never took life too seriously, but always managed to make good grades and appear responsible.
On one particular evening, these girls threw a party at their house. It was hopping. What started out as a group project for one of the girls, quickly escalated into a 20+ person party which included the other three of her roomies.
Side note: If you asked the landlord who lived there, he would only know of three total. The fourth was kept a secret. The girls went to such great efforts to hide this fact, that whenever they knew of the landlord coming to the house to fix anything or show the house, the two who shared a room would push their double beds together, and since they had the same bed spread, it appeared to be a bed built for either a giant, or an 800-pound man. One time, the landlord was showing the house to some girls and they asked about the giant ass bed… the response? It was an “Ultimate King.” The sad thing is those girls believed it.
Back to the story.
As time went on, the girls got hungry. Three of them went to a pancake house in town, one was left behind so she went to her sorority house which was just around the corner to cause a ruckus. She woke up her friends still in house, was very loud and stayed up watching youtube videos until the wee hours. Then she decided to go home.
Still somewhat extremely intoxicated, she went to open her front door… she had the key but when she unlocked the door and pushed it open, it would not open. She stopped and thought to herself… this is just my mind playing tricks on me, I will close it and then try again…. Yea, nope pretty sure the door WAS in fact chained. So she did the next logical thing… began screaming through the crack in the door. When that didn’t work, she scaled the balcony of her house. You see, the balcony door was closer to her roommates’ window, so she thought that surely the banging would wake them up. She banged and yelled at her roommates for approximately 7-9 minutes. Nothing.
She failed in waking up her roommates, but succeeded in waking up her neighbors. The neighbors opened up their window and said,
“Maddie, what the hell are you doing?”
“Oh, did I wake you up?” (I mean it wasn’t like I was yelling at 3am or anything.) “Sorry, Linda and Katie locked me out and my phone is dead.”
“Come over here, you can sleep on our couch.”
“No, its okay, I just need a pair of needle nose pliers.”
“What?”
“I’ll explain when I get down.”
You see, Maddie had remembered the time they had a pre-party at their house and people were using the back door… but in the process, the door knob was broken off. It was so difficult to lock the door, that the girls didn’t worry about locking it back because there was no door knob so how could anyone possibly get in?
She scaled back down the balcony, extremely lucky she did not break her neck and went over to her very gracious neighbors.
“Do you have any needle nose pliers?”
They looked for a while and then found some. One of the kind neighbors escorted her back over to her house with a flashlight, because it was very obvious to them that she was still intoxicated and not very obvious what exactly she was attempting to do. As they held the flashlight ever so steadily, Maddie succeeded in breaking into her own home. She went to the front door, unchained it and then returned the pliers.
She marched up her stairs, turned the lights on in her roommates’ room, jumped on her them, and screamed at them for the next 3 minutes… she manage to get a few moans out of them, but neither of them awoke. There would be hell to pay in the morning, she thought.
She went downstairs to turn the lights off, and her other roommate Michelle stumbled home. A 5-minute rant began and Maddie told Michelle the whole story…. Michelle rather oblivious while she dominated a mini microwavable pizza.
The next morning, Maddie recanted the whole story to all of the roommates.
This is not where this story ends, however. Several weeks later, the dumbasses (Katie and Linda) who like to pass out decided to chain themselves in, yet again. This time Maddie was out of town and it was Michelle who was locked out. She woke up the neighbors in her attempt to break into the home and remembered Maddie’s little story. She got a pair of needle nose pliers and went to the back door to do a little Maddie/James Bond action to break into the house. She was not so successful.
The next morning Michelle called Maddie and told her about how she had tried to get into the back door with pliers for a good 20-30 minutes before giving up. Maddie laughed hysterical.
“What?” Michelle asked.
“Well, the only reason that worked for me was because there was no door knob at the time. I have since put the door knob back on.”
“Oh.”
To this day, Maddie wonders what exactly Michelle was using those needle nose pliers on…. For 20-30 minutes…
In the past I have shared with you all that my friends and I could have very easily been the center of a reality TV show. I’m pretty sure two of them still could. In effort to show you all just how much truth there is to this statement, I will share with you the following story.
Once upon a time in the magical city of Stillwater, there lived four very mischievous girls. They liked to go out on the weekends, never took life too seriously, but always managed to make good grades and appear responsible.
On one particular evening, these girls threw a party at their house. It was hopping. What started out as a group project for one of the girls, quickly escalated into a 20+ person party which included the other three of her roomies.
Side note: If you asked the landlord who lived there, he would only know of three total. The fourth was kept a secret. The girls went to such great efforts to hide this fact, that whenever they knew of the landlord coming to the house to fix anything or show the house, the two who shared a room would push their double beds together, and since they had the same bed spread, it appeared to be a bed built for either a giant, or an 800-pound man. One time, the landlord was showing the house to some girls and they asked about the giant ass bed… the response? It was an “Ultimate King.” The sad thing is those girls believed it.
Back to the story.
As time went on, the girls got hungry. Three of them went to a pancake house in town, one was left behind so she went to her sorority house which was just around the corner to cause a ruckus. She woke up her friends still in house, was very loud and stayed up watching youtube videos until the wee hours. Then she decided to go home.
Still somewhat extremely intoxicated, she went to open her front door… she had the key but when she unlocked the door and pushed it open, it would not open. She stopped and thought to herself… this is just my mind playing tricks on me, I will close it and then try again…. Yea, nope pretty sure the door WAS in fact chained. So she did the next logical thing… began screaming through the crack in the door. When that didn’t work, she scaled the balcony of her house. You see, the balcony door was closer to her roommates’ window, so she thought that surely the banging would wake them up. She banged and yelled at her roommates for approximately 7-9 minutes. Nothing.
She failed in waking up her roommates, but succeeded in waking up her neighbors. The neighbors opened up their window and said,
“Maddie, what the hell are you doing?”
“Oh, did I wake you up?” (I mean it wasn’t like I was yelling at 3am or anything.) “Sorry, Linda and Katie locked me out and my phone is dead.”
“Come over here, you can sleep on our couch.”
“No, its okay, I just need a pair of needle nose pliers.”
“What?”
“I’ll explain when I get down.”
You see, Maddie had remembered the time they had a pre-party at their house and people were using the back door… but in the process, the door knob was broken off. It was so difficult to lock the door, that the girls didn’t worry about locking it back because there was no door knob so how could anyone possibly get in?
She scaled back down the balcony, extremely lucky she did not break her neck and went over to her very gracious neighbors.
“Do you have any needle nose pliers?”
They looked for a while and then found some. One of the kind neighbors escorted her back over to her house with a flashlight, because it was very obvious to them that she was still intoxicated and not very obvious what exactly she was attempting to do. As they held the flashlight ever so steadily, Maddie succeeded in breaking into her own home. She went to the front door, unchained it and then returned the pliers.
She marched up her stairs, turned the lights on in her roommates’ room, jumped on her them, and screamed at them for the next 3 minutes… she manage to get a few moans out of them, but neither of them awoke. There would be hell to pay in the morning, she thought.
She went downstairs to turn the lights off, and her other roommate Michelle stumbled home. A 5-minute rant began and Maddie told Michelle the whole story…. Michelle rather oblivious while she dominated a mini microwavable pizza.
The next morning, Maddie recanted the whole story to all of the roommates.
This is not where this story ends, however. Several weeks later, the dumbasses (Katie and Linda) who like to pass out decided to chain themselves in, yet again. This time Maddie was out of town and it was Michelle who was locked out. She woke up the neighbors in her attempt to break into the home and remembered Maddie’s little story. She got a pair of needle nose pliers and went to the back door to do a little Maddie/James Bond action to break into the house. She was not so successful.
The next morning Michelle called Maddie and told her about how she had tried to get into the back door with pliers for a good 20-30 minutes before giving up. Maddie laughed hysterical.
“What?” Michelle asked.
“Well, the only reason that worked for me was because there was no door knob at the time. I have since put the door knob back on.”
“Oh.”
To this day, Maddie wonders what exactly Michelle was using those needle nose pliers on…. For 20-30 minutes…
Outsourcing to India
Bottom Line: It's a bad idea. Anytime you set up a system where people from English-speaking countries call people from non-English-speaking countries but are pretending to be English-speaking is a joke. Placing someone on the other end of the phone who only knows "How may I help you?" "Where are you traveling to?" "What is your call-fir-mash-in code?" and "Can you please repeat the question?" Leads to one thing and one thing only: Impatience.
My sister, a friend of mine, and I were supposed to travel to LA this coming weekend to visit my cousin. Seeing as sista-girl is now eating for two, she thinks it best she stay behind. She doesn't want to hold us back while shopping since now she requires naps... plus she's been battling a cold. The problem with Melissa canceling her ticket is the fact that she had a reservation to bring my cousin's dog back to her in LA. When Melissa canceled the ticket... she canceled Toby. My cousin added the pet reservation to begin with, but seeing as its only 8:35am in LA, we were both willing to bet she'd still be asleep, so I called because I am far more intelligent then my sister (hahaha).
The first time I called United, I spoke with a nice young woman who didn't know what the hell she was talking about. (I'm sure her name was Sarasvati which means "Goddess of Learning" in Hindu, but for this story we will call her Sara.) When I told Sara that I was wanting to transfer the pet reservation from one ticket to the other, she told me they don't make pet reservations and I would have to call Cargo. Sara then gave me a number to call. I was already annoyed.
When I called Cargo, the first automated response I heard was "If you are calling about traveling with a pet in the cabin or checking a pet to travel in the undercarriage, please call" THE NUMBER THAT YOU GOT AHOLD OF SARA AT. More annoyed.
I was almost hoping that when I called the same number I had just dialed only minutes previously, that I would get ahold of Sara again and tell her she was wrong. Instead I got ahold of the man I'm contemplating having fired. (For this story we will call him Asshole.)
Whenever Asshole answered, I explained what was going on... I'm pretty sure he had no idea what I was talking about. So then he just asked for my call form number.
"My what?"
"Call form number."
"Okay, you are asking for my call form number?"
"Excuse me, your callfirm-ation number."
"Oh okay, the one on my trip itinerary or the one for the pet reservation?"
"Could you repeat the question?"
"Do you want the number on my itinerary or the one for the pet reservation?"
"I'm sorry could you repeat the question?"
THIS HAD TO END. I'm pretty sure he asked me a total of 4 times to repeat the question. At which point I lost all patience. I was yelling into the phone really slowly because I thought that might help him understand better. "DO YOU WANT THE NUMBER FOR MY TICKETS OR THE NUMBER FOR THE PET?"
I think he finally gave up because he was losing patience to, although I'm not sure why... I mean shit, I speak English just fine. I speak it so well, in fact, that I have chose to make it my primary language, forsaking all others. He then just told me to give him a number. So I gave him the number that said "confirmation" by it. He asked for another number. Um, okay.... So I gave him my ticket number. FINALLY SUCCESS. Then when we began discussing, again, what I needed done, he asked me for my confirmation number again.
"Well, I already gave it to you, but okay..... here it is again."
"Well, it isn't popping up in the computer."
"Sorry, don't know what to tell you I'm looking at the number that says confirmation by it its... G as in girl, B as in boy, 8, 9, R as in Road and I as in Island."
"Okay I found it."
I lost all faith in this man. I'm almost positive the problem was that he wasn't not entirely familiarized with the English alphabet. He heard it, but didn't know what it looked like on the keyboard. He had NO problem with the 12-digit number I gave him, but the 4-letters in my 6 digit code posed problems for him until I gave them in a word. I know it wasn't me just saying them wrong, because I had given it to him like 4 times at this point... he was BIG fan of making me repeat myself.
He confirmed that the pet reservation was on the itinerary (thats not the word he used though, its too big). I told him I wanted it transferred from the passenger it was on, to my name. He was a bit confused but then he went silent.
"Okay, I have the reservation for the first flight, do you want me to add it to the second?" Forgetting that I was flying one way to LA and not stopping, I said yes.... but then immediately corrected myself... "No, no, no. The dog isn't traveling back with us."
Now he was plain concerned/confused/annoyed/pissing me off.
"I just need a pet reservation from OKC to LAX... he is staying in LA."
"Um............(long silence)."
I'm worried that he isn't quite understanding of the task I have given him so I kindly and calmly ask if it would be a better idea for me to be transferred to someone who understands me a little bit... Bad idea.
"I am helping you!" He responds.
"Yes I know, but I'm just worried you don't quite understand what I'm asking you." (He did ask me to repeat myself 4 times. Proof.)
"I understand, I cancelled the reservation for the pet on Mel-eees-a to Mad-a-leen."
"Oh okay, good. You just sounded a bit confused."
Now that I've pissed him off, I'm worried he could screw with my shit so I ask him to send me a confirmation that the pet reservation has been moved to my name. I give him my email... which took some time... and he says the email was sent.
"The email has been sent, you should receive it shortly."
"Alright, thank you."
AND HERE IS THE BEST PART OF THE STORY.... HE SAID:
"KAY, BYE." And hung up.
I started laughing hysterically. That is definately not in the protocol of ways to hang up. Normally, the drag the conversation for an additional 30 seconds with all the shit they have to say.
Hopefully, that conversation was recorded for evaluation purposes and his boss gets as big of a kick out of it as I did... (I'm hoping for a demotion.)
When I checked my email to see the confirmation he sent me... He sent me the travel itinerary I had been reading off the entire time. It says nothing about a pet reservation.
I will now call and speak to another operator to double check that Asshole didn't delete my reservation. Wish me luck.
My sister, a friend of mine, and I were supposed to travel to LA this coming weekend to visit my cousin. Seeing as sista-girl is now eating for two, she thinks it best she stay behind. She doesn't want to hold us back while shopping since now she requires naps... plus she's been battling a cold. The problem with Melissa canceling her ticket is the fact that she had a reservation to bring my cousin's dog back to her in LA. When Melissa canceled the ticket... she canceled Toby. My cousin added the pet reservation to begin with, but seeing as its only 8:35am in LA, we were both willing to bet she'd still be asleep, so I called because I am far more intelligent then my sister (hahaha).
The first time I called United, I spoke with a nice young woman who didn't know what the hell she was talking about. (I'm sure her name was Sarasvati which means "Goddess of Learning" in Hindu, but for this story we will call her Sara.) When I told Sara that I was wanting to transfer the pet reservation from one ticket to the other, she told me they don't make pet reservations and I would have to call Cargo. Sara then gave me a number to call. I was already annoyed.
When I called Cargo, the first automated response I heard was "If you are calling about traveling with a pet in the cabin or checking a pet to travel in the undercarriage, please call" THE NUMBER THAT YOU GOT AHOLD OF SARA AT. More annoyed.
I was almost hoping that when I called the same number I had just dialed only minutes previously, that I would get ahold of Sara again and tell her she was wrong. Instead I got ahold of the man I'm contemplating having fired. (For this story we will call him Asshole.)
Whenever Asshole answered, I explained what was going on... I'm pretty sure he had no idea what I was talking about. So then he just asked for my call form number.
"My what?"
"Call form number."
"Okay, you are asking for my call form number?"
"Excuse me, your callfirm-ation number."
"Oh okay, the one on my trip itinerary or the one for the pet reservation?"
"Could you repeat the question?"
"Do you want the number on my itinerary or the one for the pet reservation?"
"I'm sorry could you repeat the question?"
THIS HAD TO END. I'm pretty sure he asked me a total of 4 times to repeat the question. At which point I lost all patience. I was yelling into the phone really slowly because I thought that might help him understand better. "DO YOU WANT THE NUMBER FOR MY TICKETS OR THE NUMBER FOR THE PET?"
I think he finally gave up because he was losing patience to, although I'm not sure why... I mean shit, I speak English just fine. I speak it so well, in fact, that I have chose to make it my primary language, forsaking all others. He then just told me to give him a number. So I gave him the number that said "confirmation" by it. He asked for another number. Um, okay.... So I gave him my ticket number. FINALLY SUCCESS. Then when we began discussing, again, what I needed done, he asked me for my confirmation number again.
"Well, I already gave it to you, but okay..... here it is again."
"Well, it isn't popping up in the computer."
"Sorry, don't know what to tell you I'm looking at the number that says confirmation by it its... G as in girl, B as in boy, 8, 9, R as in Road and I as in Island."
"Okay I found it."
I lost all faith in this man. I'm almost positive the problem was that he wasn't not entirely familiarized with the English alphabet. He heard it, but didn't know what it looked like on the keyboard. He had NO problem with the 12-digit number I gave him, but the 4-letters in my 6 digit code posed problems for him until I gave them in a word. I know it wasn't me just saying them wrong, because I had given it to him like 4 times at this point... he was BIG fan of making me repeat myself.
He confirmed that the pet reservation was on the itinerary (thats not the word he used though, its too big). I told him I wanted it transferred from the passenger it was on, to my name. He was a bit confused but then he went silent.
"Okay, I have the reservation for the first flight, do you want me to add it to the second?" Forgetting that I was flying one way to LA and not stopping, I said yes.... but then immediately corrected myself... "No, no, no. The dog isn't traveling back with us."
Now he was plain concerned/confused/annoyed/pissing me off.
"I just need a pet reservation from OKC to LAX... he is staying in LA."
"Um............(long silence)."
I'm worried that he isn't quite understanding of the task I have given him so I kindly and calmly ask if it would be a better idea for me to be transferred to someone who understands me a little bit... Bad idea.
"I am helping you!" He responds.
"Yes I know, but I'm just worried you don't quite understand what I'm asking you." (He did ask me to repeat myself 4 times. Proof.)
"I understand, I cancelled the reservation for the pet on Mel-eees-a to Mad-a-leen."
"Oh okay, good. You just sounded a bit confused."
Now that I've pissed him off, I'm worried he could screw with my shit so I ask him to send me a confirmation that the pet reservation has been moved to my name. I give him my email... which took some time... and he says the email was sent.
"The email has been sent, you should receive it shortly."
"Alright, thank you."
AND HERE IS THE BEST PART OF THE STORY.... HE SAID:
"KAY, BYE." And hung up.
I started laughing hysterically. That is definately not in the protocol of ways to hang up. Normally, the drag the conversation for an additional 30 seconds with all the shit they have to say.
Hopefully, that conversation was recorded for evaluation purposes and his boss gets as big of a kick out of it as I did... (I'm hoping for a demotion.)
When I checked my email to see the confirmation he sent me... He sent me the travel itinerary I had been reading off the entire time. It says nothing about a pet reservation.
I will now call and speak to another operator to double check that Asshole didn't delete my reservation. Wish me luck.
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Do you smell bacon?
I love overweight policemen. I find it hilarious that a police officer CAN be overweight. What happens when a cop sees a crime take place and is forced to pursue the perp? They sure as hell aren’t going to catch them.
Of the time cops are on duty, I wonder what percent of that time is spent eating. The donut jokes must come from somewhere… (My favorite being: “Do you know why I pulled you over?” Response: “Cause you think I have donuts in here.”)
My particular fondness for fat cops was sent to an all time high last night on my drive home from Oklahoma City. I had just gotten my hair done and it took a lot longer than I had imagined, so I was running a bit late. I decided to stop to pick up dinner for my family at PF Changs and then high-tail it back home.
I was making excellent time. I was within 20ish minutes of Enid City Limits when I hear an EHHHHH EHHHH EHHHHH EHHHHHH…. My fuzz buster was going off. I slam on my brakes then I see flashing lights in the opposite lane. The cop had passed me and I just knew he was going to turn around and pull me over. I had been going at least 20+ over the speed limit. Then the most amazing thing happened. Something I’ve never seen take place in the almost 8 years I’ve been driving…. He turned his lights back off and kept going. WHAAAA?????
I was curious… What would drive this police officer to be so kind as to not write me a $300 speeding ticket? My family are regulars on 74… we are also regular speeders… I’m sure the entire highway patrol is familiar with our last name.
But then I looked down, saw the time and realized it was like 6:30pm… The answer was staring me blank in the fact…. That Po was going home for dinner!
He must’ve been fat.
Of the time cops are on duty, I wonder what percent of that time is spent eating. The donut jokes must come from somewhere… (My favorite being: “Do you know why I pulled you over?” Response: “Cause you think I have donuts in here.”)
My particular fondness for fat cops was sent to an all time high last night on my drive home from Oklahoma City. I had just gotten my hair done and it took a lot longer than I had imagined, so I was running a bit late. I decided to stop to pick up dinner for my family at PF Changs and then high-tail it back home.
I was making excellent time. I was within 20ish minutes of Enid City Limits when I hear an EHHHHH EHHHH EHHHHH EHHHHHH…. My fuzz buster was going off. I slam on my brakes then I see flashing lights in the opposite lane. The cop had passed me and I just knew he was going to turn around and pull me over. I had been going at least 20+ over the speed limit. Then the most amazing thing happened. Something I’ve never seen take place in the almost 8 years I’ve been driving…. He turned his lights back off and kept going. WHAAAA?????
I was curious… What would drive this police officer to be so kind as to not write me a $300 speeding ticket? My family are regulars on 74… we are also regular speeders… I’m sure the entire highway patrol is familiar with our last name.
But then I looked down, saw the time and realized it was like 6:30pm… The answer was staring me blank in the fact…. That Po was going home for dinner!
He must’ve been fat.
Friday, January 7, 2011
I Got My Sister Pregnant
For the past month, I’ve constantly teased my sister about the fact that she could be pregnant. I’ve sent her congratulations at random. I’ve lifted her jacket and patted her belly in public. I virtually pretend she’s pregnant, despite her constant denials. My sister didn't plan on having children until her and her husband had been married for 2-3 years.
Her husband, however, began bribing her with larger jewelry were she to get pregnant within in the first year of marriage... had he gotten his way, sister would've been knocked up on the honeymoon.
My brother-in-law wanted to get her pregnant so bad, whenever we got in fights, I'd tell him I'd poke holes in their condoms if he forgave me. (Birth control makes my sister go crazy… so that is just not an option for her.)
Not only did my brother-in-law want her to get pregnant, but he wanted twins. Twins run in his family. So whenever I'd joke about Melissa being pregnant, Daniel would add by saying it was with twins.
Every year for Christmas, my uncle gets us all gag gifts and say they were from Santa. For the past couple of years, I’ve wanted in on the action so people get two gifts from Santa. This year my sister got three.
I forgot what she got from my uncle, but I got a bag that said “Bull Shit disposal on it.” Like the vomit bag on airplanes, but for bull shit… he said every lawyer needs one. But I'd gotten her two gifts... one from me-Santa and one from mystery-Santa. I didn’t want her to know that a particular one was from me because I was willing to bet she wouldn't be thrilled.
The Me-Santa got her a little piggy bank that was a fat cow with a purse that said shopping fund… The Mystery-Santa got her a book for mothers expecting multiples. I don't know why I bothered with two gifts... it was very obvious I got it for her. She did not share her new book with the rest of the family, my father did, but she just grabbed it from him and hid it. I had no idea why she was so particular angered. Could it be the fact I got her husband a bag full of condoms with ice-pick-sized holes in them? Or was it the book for expecting mothers? It could've been the fact that I got my mom in on the action. Despite all of our constant teasing... not one family member noticed the fact Melissa wasn't drinking alcohol.
The next morning I found out why Sister was so annoyed... because we were right. On Christmas morning, my sister and brother-in-law announced that family planning does not work and they were with child.
I was in shock. Not because my sister was pregnant, but because I'm pretty sure I got her pregnant. I told her she was pregnant. I told my mom she was pregnant. I patted her belly... telling her body she was pregnant. I put the fact she was pregnant out into nature.
The Secret - Ask. Believe. Receive. I didn’t know it was possible for me to get my sister pregnant, but I guess it is.
In a matter of 2 months, I will have a nephew named Lewy… and in 6 months I will have a possible another nephew or a niece. I'm pretty excited about being an aunt. I've already begun playing GaGa for these little peanuts in the womb... gotta lead them in the right direction, you know.
Now I'm just wondering what I should ask for next.... Hey Michelle... Do you and Adam want children yet?
Her husband, however, began bribing her with larger jewelry were she to get pregnant within in the first year of marriage... had he gotten his way, sister would've been knocked up on the honeymoon.
My brother-in-law wanted to get her pregnant so bad, whenever we got in fights, I'd tell him I'd poke holes in their condoms if he forgave me. (Birth control makes my sister go crazy… so that is just not an option for her.)
Not only did my brother-in-law want her to get pregnant, but he wanted twins. Twins run in his family. So whenever I'd joke about Melissa being pregnant, Daniel would add by saying it was with twins.
Every year for Christmas, my uncle gets us all gag gifts and say they were from Santa. For the past couple of years, I’ve wanted in on the action so people get two gifts from Santa. This year my sister got three.
I forgot what she got from my uncle, but I got a bag that said “Bull Shit disposal on it.” Like the vomit bag on airplanes, but for bull shit… he said every lawyer needs one. But I'd gotten her two gifts... one from me-Santa and one from mystery-Santa. I didn’t want her to know that a particular one was from me because I was willing to bet she wouldn't be thrilled.
The Me-Santa got her a little piggy bank that was a fat cow with a purse that said shopping fund… The Mystery-Santa got her a book for mothers expecting multiples. I don't know why I bothered with two gifts... it was very obvious I got it for her. She did not share her new book with the rest of the family, my father did, but she just grabbed it from him and hid it. I had no idea why she was so particular angered. Could it be the fact I got her husband a bag full of condoms with ice-pick-sized holes in them? Or was it the book for expecting mothers? It could've been the fact that I got my mom in on the action. Despite all of our constant teasing... not one family member noticed the fact Melissa wasn't drinking alcohol.
The next morning I found out why Sister was so annoyed... because we were right. On Christmas morning, my sister and brother-in-law announced that family planning does not work and they were with child.
I was in shock. Not because my sister was pregnant, but because I'm pretty sure I got her pregnant. I told her she was pregnant. I told my mom she was pregnant. I patted her belly... telling her body she was pregnant. I put the fact she was pregnant out into nature.
The Secret - Ask. Believe. Receive. I didn’t know it was possible for me to get my sister pregnant, but I guess it is.
In a matter of 2 months, I will have a nephew named Lewy… and in 6 months I will have a possible another nephew or a niece. I'm pretty excited about being an aunt. I've already begun playing GaGa for these little peanuts in the womb... gotta lead them in the right direction, you know.
Now I'm just wondering what I should ask for next.... Hey Michelle... Do you and Adam want children yet?
Thursday, January 6, 2011
I Have Straight Teeth... But only sometimes.
When I was in the 4th grade, I got braces. At the time, I thought it was the coolest thing ever. I got these little cases of wax when they started rubbing the inside of my cheeks. It was a very ignorant time for me. About 4 months after getting the braces, I soon realized they WERE NOT all they were cracked up to be.
I had those braces for additional 5 years.
I did not get my braces removed until the summer before my sophomore year. HOWEVER, upon getting rid of the very things that made my teeth perfectly straight, I got a top retainer and a metal wire placed behind my bottom teeth. But guess what. I lost the retainer and the wire's cement broke off one of my teeth the very next day I got it... I never got it fixed.
The result? Luckily my top row of teeth remained straight... my bottom row was not so lucky, but still it was only one tooth that moved slightly. When I switched dentist, the bottom wire was removed and I was given yet another retainer... I BET YOU CAN GUESS WHAT HAPPENED TO THAT ONE.
The loss of my bottom retainer lead to a nasty snaggle by the time I was in college. I would name it... take impressions of it in my gun. I made jokes about it, but secretly was pissed off about the fact I had worn braces for over 5 years and had NOTHING to show for it.
I went back to the dentist because I just couldn't stand it anymore. I got invisalign. I straightened my teeth in about 3 months... then I lost the last retainer in the invisalign set and my teeth went crooked YET again. THat time, it got worse.
For the last 2 years, I have had crooked bottom teeth. But ladies and gentlelads, I have great news. My parents found the last retainer in the invisalign set when we moved to our new home. It took a painful week and I had the beautifully straight teeth I once treasured.
There is a slight catch.... Sometimes I got like a day or two without wearing it and I immediately get crooked teeth again. As I type this I'm rubbing my tongue against the back of my front bottom teeth.. crooked. I seriously need to get my shit together.
Had I written this two days ago, I'd have straight teeth.
I had those braces for additional 5 years.
I did not get my braces removed until the summer before my sophomore year. HOWEVER, upon getting rid of the very things that made my teeth perfectly straight, I got a top retainer and a metal wire placed behind my bottom teeth. But guess what. I lost the retainer and the wire's cement broke off one of my teeth the very next day I got it... I never got it fixed.
The result? Luckily my top row of teeth remained straight... my bottom row was not so lucky, but still it was only one tooth that moved slightly. When I switched dentist, the bottom wire was removed and I was given yet another retainer... I BET YOU CAN GUESS WHAT HAPPENED TO THAT ONE.
The loss of my bottom retainer lead to a nasty snaggle by the time I was in college. I would name it... take impressions of it in my gun. I made jokes about it, but secretly was pissed off about the fact I had worn braces for over 5 years and had NOTHING to show for it.
I went back to the dentist because I just couldn't stand it anymore. I got invisalign. I straightened my teeth in about 3 months... then I lost the last retainer in the invisalign set and my teeth went crooked YET again. THat time, it got worse.
For the last 2 years, I have had crooked bottom teeth. But ladies and gentlelads, I have great news. My parents found the last retainer in the invisalign set when we moved to our new home. It took a painful week and I had the beautifully straight teeth I once treasured.
There is a slight catch.... Sometimes I got like a day or two without wearing it and I immediately get crooked teeth again. As I type this I'm rubbing my tongue against the back of my front bottom teeth.. crooked. I seriously need to get my shit together.
Had I written this two days ago, I'd have straight teeth.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Battle Royale
I have a problem. It involves over-indulging while on vacation. I see food, I eat food. I see liquor, I drink liquor. On any typical day, I try to remain pretty healthy. The past month excluded. Due to my love of food and the drink (the love being owed to my DNA), I am the proud new owner of 8 additional pounds.
This poses a problem because I am going to Elay in very soon…. Perhaps the most self-centered/superficial town in the U.S. of A. To fix the problem, I knew it required fast action. On the ride home from Taos, I informed my sister I had to go back on the diet that helped me lose weight the first time. At first I wanted to lose 5 lbs. in two weeks but after getting off the scale, I think I’m going to shoot for 8. Technical, I only have 8 days so I must attempt to lose one pound a day. (Please no one worry, I watch the Biggest Loser all the time, I am a pro…. Plus I stayed at a Holiday Inn Express last night #joke.)
The spin to this story, is that my brother-in-law made a remark that he wanted to do it with me. And so being the competitive person I am, I decided to challenge him to a battle. Whoever loses the most weight in two weeks, wins $100. He is going down.
Yesterday I consumed around 1200 calories, while burning around 700. Today… I didn’t fair so well. I dreamed of sweets all day. Instead of succumbing to my dream of brownies and ice cream, I instead chose to have an antioxidant-filled bottle of wine. It was delicious. However, I think it set me back a day.
Despite my lapse in judgment, I know I will still beat my brother-in-law. I am going to get back on track and kick his ass. I mean shit… he had grilled cheese and tomato basil last night… I win.
Daniel, get ready to go DOWN. I am the queen of weight loss when I actually try.
This poses a problem because I am going to Elay in very soon…. Perhaps the most self-centered/superficial town in the U.S. of A. To fix the problem, I knew it required fast action. On the ride home from Taos, I informed my sister I had to go back on the diet that helped me lose weight the first time. At first I wanted to lose 5 lbs. in two weeks but after getting off the scale, I think I’m going to shoot for 8. Technical, I only have 8 days so I must attempt to lose one pound a day. (Please no one worry, I watch the Biggest Loser all the time, I am a pro…. Plus I stayed at a Holiday Inn Express last night #joke.)
The spin to this story, is that my brother-in-law made a remark that he wanted to do it with me. And so being the competitive person I am, I decided to challenge him to a battle. Whoever loses the most weight in two weeks, wins $100. He is going down.
Yesterday I consumed around 1200 calories, while burning around 700. Today… I didn’t fair so well. I dreamed of sweets all day. Instead of succumbing to my dream of brownies and ice cream, I instead chose to have an antioxidant-filled bottle of wine. It was delicious. However, I think it set me back a day.
Despite my lapse in judgment, I know I will still beat my brother-in-law. I am going to get back on track and kick his ass. I mean shit… he had grilled cheese and tomato basil last night… I win.
Daniel, get ready to go DOWN. I am the queen of weight loss when I actually try.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Shit Fingers
My friend Linda and I are going to team up and write a book. It will consist of embarrassing stories from the both of us... and pretty much everyone we know - whether you gave us permission to write about it or not.
Why we decided to attempt this endeavor? God only knows. For years in college, we always believed... from the bottom of our hearts... that we needed to be the subject of a reality tv show... because no one ever gave us that opportunity, we must take this time to share our lives with the rest of the world. They deserve it, it will be a great read.
I think we could compare it with Chelsea Handler's "Horizontal Life," Tucker Max's "I hope they serve beer in hell," and "Shit my dad says."
The tagline of our book??? "The stories you love to hear, but hate to tell." And scene.
We will be accepting submissions... just email me at madeline.meibergen@ou.edu
Potential excerpt from the book:
One time I was on the phone with this girl... we will call her Debbie. Debbie had just visited the dentist. While at the dentist, the doctor expressed to his hyigenist that he was concerned about the damage to her enamel. He told the hygienist that he believed she was using to much head. Upon this statement, Debbie immediately became concerned. Rather shocked, she informed the dentist that she didn't do that enough for it to matter. The dentist, confused responded, "You don't brush your teeth?"
You see, Debbie thought he was referring to the act of giving head... not the head on her toothbrush being too hard. Fail. I'm sure that dentist and hygienist will have something to talk about for years to come.
P.S. For those of you who noted the title of this blog... well you will just have to read the last chapter of the book.
Why we decided to attempt this endeavor? God only knows. For years in college, we always believed... from the bottom of our hearts... that we needed to be the subject of a reality tv show... because no one ever gave us that opportunity, we must take this time to share our lives with the rest of the world. They deserve it, it will be a great read.
I think we could compare it with Chelsea Handler's "Horizontal Life," Tucker Max's "I hope they serve beer in hell," and "Shit my dad says."
The tagline of our book??? "The stories you love to hear, but hate to tell." And scene.
We will be accepting submissions... just email me at madeline.meibergen@ou.edu
Potential excerpt from the book:
One time I was on the phone with this girl... we will call her Debbie. Debbie had just visited the dentist. While at the dentist, the doctor expressed to his hyigenist that he was concerned about the damage to her enamel. He told the hygienist that he believed she was using to much head. Upon this statement, Debbie immediately became concerned. Rather shocked, she informed the dentist that she didn't do that enough for it to matter. The dentist, confused responded, "You don't brush your teeth?"
You see, Debbie thought he was referring to the act of giving head... not the head on her toothbrush being too hard. Fail. I'm sure that dentist and hygienist will have something to talk about for years to come.
P.S. For those of you who noted the title of this blog... well you will just have to read the last chapter of the book.
Chidren for Sale
This morning I woke up, let my dog use the restroom, feed her, then I take to the kitchen to feed myself. On this particular morning I decided to watch Ellen Degeneres. Personally, my favorite talk show currently on tv… tied with Chelsea Lately, of course. During a commercial break, a particular commercial caught my attention.
CASHKIDS.COM The just of the commercial is these children are bragging talking about all the cool things their parents just bought them. And then they add the fact the only reason they got that stuff is because there parents went to cashkids.com. Did the parents sell a sibling? Are they renting their children out as slave labor?
May I suggest you rename your site? Perhaps too mykidisaspoiledshitIneedmoremoney.com???? It has a nice ring to it. Just anything that doesn’t make it sound like an ebay site for exploiting children. Thanks.
CASHKIDS.COM The just of the commercial is these children are bragging talking about all the cool things their parents just bought them. And then they add the fact the only reason they got that stuff is because there parents went to cashkids.com. Did the parents sell a sibling? Are they renting their children out as slave labor?
May I suggest you rename your site? Perhaps too mykidisaspoiledshitIneedmoremoney.com???? It has a nice ring to it. Just anything that doesn’t make it sound like an ebay site for exploiting children. Thanks.
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